restoration will abolish dice

HOBO-MAP

The calm oval of the bridge

floats in the stream

like bubble on a beam.

A fringe of green trees edge

the shoreline... memory of summer.

Water seeks its own

level.  Every stone

melts in its riverbed.  Your humor,

Hobo, settles into Ocean State

as silky Mississippi

seeps into the mighty

estuary of the Gulf (trompette

marine).  So your melodious

escapism is salted too,

with fire – there ain’t no

place that doesn’t see you, Mose.

Cradle him in your coracle

of creamy wisdom, Sophie –

let light from a tree

of galaxies be his menorah (Huck,

that is – Huck Finn).  Your soaring

arc (beside Cahokia)

hovers, a stealth utopia –

eagle-prong, heat-seeking

beak from heaven.  Like that rapt

golden raptor, diving

on rainbow wing

toward his vanishing point

                *

(infinity) which Joachim (mulish

Franciscan hermit)

signed, Age of the Spirit...

Fusion of molten phoenix, starfish

turtledove... risen to dance

lightfooted on the grave

of death (one palm-wave

soothes her brow-circumference).

Only leave him his primitive wood-burnt

etching from Rhode Island.

Someone might understand

its clambit rhythm somehow – learnt

by beachcomber, drifted to sound

of sea-wash... steady laving

for pain... life-saving

Island Rose (from rocky ground).

The Word sings out of rosy shell chambers,

complex inflected folds,

ineffable.  She breaks molds

by clash of scalloping tambours –

beams smiling splendor in a glance;

beholds the Earth, clipped

into chains, gripped

by small potentates (from Bossy Manse)...

My hobo-map of Paradise

includes Newport (Jackie

& Jack wed, merrily);

my restoration will abolish dice.

11.6.17